


:D Surprise :D

by Hiver_Frost_Elf



Category: Static Shock, The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Child Neglect, Drawn to Life - Freeform, Dreams, Eevee Jammies, Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Len's a much better father starting in chapter 2, Lewis Snart Is His Own Warning in This Fandom, Mama Rory's Cure for Everything by Dinnertime, Nerdiness, Plush Menagerie, Pokemon - Freeform, in chapter one, Русский | Russian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-08 20:45:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8860411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hiver_Frost_Elf/pseuds/Hiver_Frost_Elf
Summary: Lisa brings home a boy.  Len and Mick ain’t happy, but Lisa gets whatever she wants, and what she wants is a nephew.





	1. Lowell Tries to Семья

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Семья = family in Russian. Chapters feature a "Lowell Tries to ______ format", with the blank filled in by a word that's not a verb. Also, super awesome grateful thanks to LadyErin for correcting my ignorance regarding human temperatures.

Len understood that Lisa might arrive a couple minutes late at safe house #2—a two-bedroom apartment with barely enough room for a coffee table, couch, and plasma screen in their dual kitchen/living area—yet at the ten-minute marker, he shoved his feet into his boots.  He was halfway into his parka when his sister finally deigned to appear… with a kid next to her.  Len stared at the stranger: a runt with hair and eyes darker than dirt that had never seen sunlight, over half Lisa’s size, and wearing a hoodie that might as well be a trench coat with how large it was on him.  He ducked away from Len’s slate lasers.

Lisa flung her brunette bangs out of her face before she grinned up at her brother and flared her hands at the runt as if he was a game show prize, “This is Lowell!  Grownups claim he’s unadoptable—but there’s nothing wrong with him, he’s just quieter than most kids his age, which is perfect for our family cuz you gotta be quiet on heists.” She then faced Lowell, who looked up at her olive-gingerbread eyes, “This is your daddy.  Your papa’s not here yet; he’s coming on Friday.” She took his sleeve-hidden hand, “C’mere, I gotta game you’ll love.  It’s old, but it’s cute and artsy like you!”

Len didn’t get a word in before Lisa spirited Lowell into her room.  It hosted _Tangled_ -themed bedding, Rachel Platten posters, and a violin.  Lisa filched her 3DS from her desk and swapped cartridges.  She sunk into her duvet when she plopped onto her bed.  She patted a spot next to her and helped Lowell skitter onto it.  She gave him custody of an extra save file before handing her sticker-plastered device over to him.

“It says you need a ‘basic reading ability to fully enjoy this game’, but you got way better than that, so you’re all set!” Lisa ruffled his hair as she peeked over his shoulder at his sketch of a Raposa.  Within minutes, chirps of “Rapo” and rings of collected Rapo-Coins fluttered throughout the room.  Lisa hung their snow-smeared outerwear in her closet and strolled into the kitchen.

Len groaned and tried to write his sister a reality check, “Social workers call some kids unadoptable because they pick fights and cause trouble.”

“He doesn’t go causing trouble, trouble goes causing him; and he doesn’t pick fights, fights pick him,” Lisa refused to cash it. “Lowell’s just like you in juvie, except he didn’t have a Mick to keep him safe until I came along.  He needs a home and a family, so I gave him mine.  He’s got the same name as Dedushka, Lenny; he’s like, reincarnated and stuff!”

“Take him back, Lise,” Len twitched at her. “Mick and I’ll get charged with abduction at the drop of a hat!”

Lisa folded her arms and hmphed at him, “Not if nobody reports ‘im missing.”

“Somebody’s bound to,” he shot back.

“No, they won’t.”

“Will.”

“Won’t!” Lisa hmphed at him again. “If you and Mick don’t love him if and when CCPD puts out an AMBER Alert for him, you two can take him back, because I won’t.  He’s my nephew, and I love him.”

Len took that bet and awaited his inevitable victory.  What 22-year-old loses to a 10-year-old in an argument?  In the meantime, Len begrudgingly fed this intruder leftovers and leased out the couch.

Mick shouldered the door open one-tripping groceries on Friday, as promised.  A slug wriggled out from under a towel upon sight of the clock on the DVR.  It read 9:13, thirteen minutes after he should’ve vacated.  Mick didn’t sense Lowell’s presence until the latter refolded the towel and snuck it back into the closet.

Sage met dirt.  Lowell gasped out a hiss at Mick like an asthmatic kitten in a chokehold and twitched at the titanic 25-year-old.  Mick blinked at him.  Lowell shivered with his arms tucked at his sides.  Lowell’s head snapped from side to side, ready to flee, when Mick plodded over and pinned a thermometer in the former’s mouth.

Lowell flopped onto the carpeted floor stomach-first and scrunched up when Len entered, freshly showered and shaved and dressed in a gray-black, ribbed turtleneck along with nondescript socks and slacks.  He greeted Mick with a peck before huffing at Lowell.

“Lenny, who is this?” Mick flicked his head at the boy.

“According to your sister-in-law,” Len sneered at the trespasser, “he’s our son.”

Mick figured she’d make a friend while she was in transit from Lewis’s custody to theirs.  Mick retrieved the thermometer when it beeped and gathered Lowell into his woolly arms, “Now I know Lewis gave you some strange ideas of how to parent, but when your kid’s temp” Mick did a double-take at its report “oughtta be a radio station, you cuddle ‘im.  The only reason I ain’t is cuz I’m gonna fix up somethin’ that’ll warm his tummy.”

Lisa interrupted them by kicking down the door, “Mick! Hooray! I see you’ve met—what’s wrong with Lowell!?”

“He can’t do anything on time and now he’s infected,” Len didn’t hesitate to mumble.

“Lowell’s low,” Mick corrected.  His gaze landed on her bundle, “Whatchoo got there, Lise?”

Lisa groaned as she set it on the couch and Len’s credit card on the coffee table, “I’ve been telling Lenny to go out and grab Dedushka Junior at least a blanket, yet all he’s done all week is sit on his butt, so I went out and grabbed one—and a pillow!  Now he doesn’t have to sleep with a towel anymore!”

Mick never understood the phenomenon of falling in love with babies because newborn humans look like naked mole rats: flabbier than seniors in a hot tub with twice as many wrinkles.  However, at 4 years old, Lowell was far beyond infancy, meaning Mick had half a mind to make Len sleep on the couch with a towel tonight.

Mick nudged Lowell into Len’s arms and rifled through the fridge.  Mick growled at Len when the latter merely stood there contemptuously.  Len muttered like a dragon and lugged Lowell onto Mick’s side of the bed.  A pillow could’ve fit between them.  Len returned to reading, not even bothering to tuck Lowell in under the covers.

Lowell cringed at Len with sclera blued like an unpeeled Easter egg.  Len snapped a scowl at him when his teeth clattered loud enough to disturb his novel.  Lowell bolted under the bed.  Len rolled his eyes and left him there.

Earthen chowder and herbal chicken perfumed the room from a bowl of Mama Rory’s Cure for Everything by Dinnertime.  Mick set it on the nightstand and scanned for Lowell.

“All he does is run and hide,” Len scoffed after pointing his pupils downward.

“I’d run and hide too if I was living witchoo,” Mick retorted as he snatched Len’s book out of his grasp and chucked it backwards.  It smacked against the wall and bent some pages when it landed. “I know we didn’t plan on him, but you know what else we didn’t plan on? Meeting our soulmate in juvie.  If you dare call either of those invalid, I got a knuckle sandwich with your name on it.  Lowell ain’t a second-class citizen, he’s our son; and so far, Lisa’s been a better parent to him than you, and she ain’t old enough to be anybody’s parent.” Len slumped against the headboard, stunned, while Mick crouched onto his belly and reached out palm-up to Lowell, who twitched and inched away.  Mick lulled him with assurances, “Hi, Lowell, I’m your papa; I ain’t gonna hurtcha, and if your daddy has a licka sense in him, he won’t either.”

Lowell crept over to Mick, curled into his grasp, and buried his face in the crook of Mick’s neck when Mick shifted them under a quilt and a comforter.  Len pushed up on his forearms and exhaled remorse.  Lowell squeaked when Len reached out to him.

“Now I know you’re not stupid enough to raise a hand to ‘im,” Mick rumbled at Len, “yet just cuz you ain’t treating him bad doesn’t mean you’re treating him well.  You better watch and learn how to treat ‘im well, cuz he stays.”

Mick spoon-fed Lowell once the latter trusted Mick enough to protect him from Len—who didn’t plan on attacking him, but it was a matter of too little, too late to convince him otherwise.  Lowell finished his chowder, taking special care not to make a mess.

_“Lenny hates messes,” Lisa rolled her eyes while twirling a lock of her shoulder-grazing hair one afternoon.  They were sitting under a tree and reading one of the few books in the building: an anthology of dead old white dudes’ literature. “I swear, if a drop of milk spills onto the floor, he becomes a volcano; and heaven help anybody who’s dumb enough to stain his room, cuz he will send you to hell.”_

She meant it as a joke, yet the damage was done.  And honestly, how was a four-year-old supposed to figure that out anyway???  What Lowell had figured out by now was that some foster families sent kids back for both minor and major infractions, and so far, Len provided no evidence of planning to act otherwise.  Yes, Lowell was still the smallest and the youngest, but Lisa kept him from becoming prey, and this was Lisa’s territory; therefore, this was the safest place on Earth.

Speaking of Lisa, she let herself in and presented Lowell four flossy, lap-sized plushies, “I saw these and thought of you!”

Three of them were wolves and one was a fox.  One wolf was wintery, one was sunny, and one was glittery; the fox was dark.  Lowell took the wintery wolf and manipulated it so it head-butted the fox onto the floor.  Len frowned, sensing impending doom.  Lisa and Mick frowned curiously.  Lisa asked Lowell about it.

Lowell gulped, “Zvezdo wants Zvezdochko to leave cuz foxes are too small and weird to love.”

Mick and Lisa snapped lasers at Len.  Lisa picked up Zvezdochko and assured Lowell, “Nobody’s too weird to love, especially not Zvezdochko.”

“And I like small,” Mick snorted with his arm around his son, who clutched Zvezdochko close to his chest and watched Zvezdo as if Zvezdo would crunch Zvezdochko’s neck. “Smaller makes Zvezdochko easier to hug.”

Len surrendered, his guilt tripling the weight of his words, “....Zvezdo doesn’t hate Zvezdochko; Zvezdo hates surprises.  Zvezdo’s just getting used to Zvezdochko, that’s all.”

Lowell wiggled closer to Mick and flinched when Len thumbed Lowell’s cheek.  Lowell didn’t relax into the gesture today, tomorrow, or even next week, yet he did by Christmas.  It was the best surprise Len had ever received.


	2. Lowell Tries to Linguist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I warned LadyErin this chapter would "have at least one good father & son moment between Len & Lowell".... Turns out, it's become ALL Len & Lowell.

Daddy and Papa put their foot down after 3 strikes: stuffed into a locker, stuffed into a trash can, and a district-wide lockdown.  Thus, Daddy and I found ourselves perched on bar stools at the island.  We’ve moved into a 3-bedroom apartment in North Dakota.  I dunno if I should call it an apartment; it’s huge!  Aunt Lisa says it’s a condominium, which means we own it???  I have no idea.  All I know is I have a bedroom now.  I gotta firm bed—not fluffy like hers—and a bunch of books.  One shelf has Russian books, one shelf has English books, and the top shelf has my plushies.

I also have a closet too, and a Winter Soldier jacket, and a 2DS, and Spyro 1-3, and Crash Bandicoot: Warped.  I love the tiger riding levels.  Coco’s cub is cute!  His name’s Pura, and he jumps really high for a cub, but that makes sense cuz adult tigers can jump at least fifteen feet high.  [There was one tiger who slashed three fingers off a guy sitting on an elephant](http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2008/01/080110-AP-tigers.html)!  Elephants can grow over 10 feet tall, which is almost as tall as Daddy and Papa lined up together.

I also like the Arabian levels cuz they have trampolines and flying carpets.  I’m gonna have a flying carpet when I grow up.  I’m not an engineer, so I’ll hold an engineer hostage and they’ll build it—probably Doctor Harrison Wells cuz he’s smart enough to be in charge of a bunch of scientists, so he’s gotta be smart enough to make a flying carpet.

Right now though, Daddy wants me to be smart enough to calculate a heist’s net income without a calculator, “Our fence can sell the goods for seven-fifty a pop; our crew cost a thousand bucks.  We steal 73, but Papa burns 9, so what’s our profit?”

This is tough.  I don’t like answering until I absolutely know the answer, but Daddy and Papa also want me to think fast.  I hate making mistakes, AND THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU RUSH THINGS!!!

The worst is when they flip one of those plastic hourglasses dentists give out.  Every speck of sand that surrenders to gravity is another molecule of failure!  They give me chips or an orange slice or whatever whenever I beat the timer, “....$27,800.”

Daddy gave me a Crunch bar, thumbed my cheek, and chuckled, “|Smart like your daddy and cute like your papa.|”

Papa’s not cute, he’s tough!  He looks NOTHING like an Eevee or a Raposa or Zvezdochko.  He doesn’t even look like Aunt Lisa.  I don’t think Aunt Lisa’s cute, but according to her, a bunch of her peers think she is.  Hearing about all these folks annoys Daddy a lot.  He also gets annoyed when folks lie to him, so I guess Aunt Lisa’s lying to him.  It’s a ridiculous lie; nobody just walks up to a person and says “you’re cute”.  She tells it all the time, too.  She read _The Boy Who Cried Wolf_ to me, so she must know that nobody believes you when you tell the same lie over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again.  One time, she brought home candy, so maybe that was when the wolf actually showed up.  Her fantasy has become rather elaborate as of late.  Yesterday, she claimed one of her classmates asked her out....  Out where???  Out in the park? Out on the playground?? Out in the grocery store???  And what question did this person ask!?!  Old folks say cockamamie cuckoo things.  It’s irritating.

Like Daddy saying I’m smart like him.  Um… no.  He’s way smarter than me; he leads people and plans heists.  I can’t do either of those things, so what’s he talking about???  I chipped at the border of my Crunch bar, “|Nah, not like you.|”

“|Absolutely like me,|” he snorted with pride and bopped my nose.  I blinked.  If somebody bopped Daddy’s nose, he wouldn’t blink.  ....Actually, I don’t think anybody could bop his nose; he’d bite their hand off.  So would Papa.  Aunt Lisa would too if it wasn’t Daddy or Papa or me.  I’d never try to bop somebody’s nose: too hazardous.  I like my fingers attached to my hands.  Finger-less hands are just Piplup flippers.  I’m a human; I have no use for flippers.

Unless I ever go scuba-diving.  I don’t think I will, though.  I’m not a Water-type.  It takes HOURS to take off wet clothes.  No thanks!  If I were an Eevee, I’d watch out for Water Stones, cuz I’d be a miserable Vaporeon.  I’d wanna become an Umbreon.  I’d learn Feint Attack, which always hits, and Moonlight for healing.  I’d also learn Psychic and Dig for type coverage—Daddy and Papa can afford TMs—and have a Serious nature cuz I don’t want any of my stats to be bad.  I’d train Defense and Special Defense to play to my species’ strengths.  My characteristic would be hates to lose.  I’d want my special ability to be Inner Focus so I never mess up.  Synchronize would be acceptable since lots of Electric-type Pokémon have Static; using Dig on them would run the risk of becoming paralyzed.  I don’t like it when my hands feel dirty, so I probably wouldn’t use Dig unless I absolutely had to anyway, but it’s best to be prepared.

I’m okay if my jeans or hair or anywhere else gets dirty, but if my hands get dirty, it’s the end of the world.  I’m weird like that.  Papa says “weird’s how jealous folks say ‘special’”, but some folks say “special” like that’s bad.  One of Aunt Lisa’s ex-friends wondered why I don’t go to school like she does.  That person specifically whispered, “Is he, like, special or something?”

Aunt Lisa acts like that person never existed now.  She could’ve just said I don’t go to school cuz I got hurt three times in two years.  I dunno know why she didn’t.  I thought she liked that friend.

“|Daddy, am I special?|”

“|Yes, of course you are,|” Daddy scoffed through his nose; he’d left the island to grab plates and refill our napkin holder.  Papa and Aunt Lisa would return soon from their quest to fetch lunch. “|You speak two languages, you understand Lisa’s homework, and you’re a phenomenal violinist.|”

“|Is that the good kind of special or the bad kind of special?|”

Daddy crinkled the new napkins and paused to look up at me, “|Where did you hear about the bad kind of special?|”

“|From Aunt Lisa’s friend: the one she doesn’t talk to anymore.|”

“|Well, that’s why she doesn’t,|” he plopped the napkins into a trapezoidal, checkered basket in the middle of our table.

I slid out of my seat and helped Daddy carry plates over.  He’s a lot bigger than me, so he doesn’t need my help; he likes my help.  I can only carry one large plate at a time or a couple small plates at a time.  Daddy can carry enough plates for everyone at a time.

“|Aren’t you happy her ex-friend told me about the bad kind of special?|” I asked as I put the plate at Papa’s place at the table.  If our table was a compass, Papa would sit at North, Aunt Lisa would sit at South, I would sit at East, and Daddy would sit at West.  It’s a square table, though, so it can’t be a compass. “|You and Papa and Aunt Lisa want me to be smart, and smart folks know everything, and the bad kind of special is a thing to know.|”

“|Smart people don’t know everything, Lowell,|” Daddy shook his head, picked me up, and sighed. “|Smart people understand the difference between useful and useless information, and the bad kind of special is useless information.|”

Information is information, isn’t it?  Why would there be a useful kind and a useless kind??  And if there are two types of information, can’t there be two kinds of special???

“|If I’m the bad kind of special, is that why other kids pick on me?|”

“|You’re not the bad kind of special, Lowell,|” Daddy hugged me close and rubbed my back.  That’s what he does when I get hurt, and I hadn’t gotten hurt all day—I haven’t even tripped on a door sill in over a week!—so why was he doing that??? “|You’re a fox in a world of wolves, and that makes you an easy target for teething pups.|”

....Daddy wants me to play to my strengths like I would if I was an Umbreon!!!

Foxes are good at diving into snow to catch prey.  Foxes are solitary and sound windy when howling.  Their tongues are scratchy like a cat’s, they walk on their toes, and their claws retract.  Foxes can’t become wolves, but they know how to avoid 'em!


	3. Lowell Tries to Trainer

We have a yard now!  It has dirt and grass and a tree Aunt Lisa can climb and a swing set that’s attached to a fort and a tunnel slide.  I wish there wasn’t so much dirt cuz I tripped and messed up my favorite hoodie: fuzzy and black with geometric Vs.

I hunted down Papa.  He was fiddling with Aunt Lisa's new car in our garage—we’ve always had a garage, but this garage is all ours—and asked him extremely nicely to wash it, “PAPA! MY HOODIE NEEDS A BATH RIGHT NOW CUZ IT NEEDS TO STAY PERFECT FOREVER!!!”

All Papa did was crawl out from under the vehicle, wipe oil off his forehead, and stand there, “Cub, it looks perfectly fine.”

“Sacrilege!”

At that point, Daddy came in to ensure we weren’t bleeding or dying.  I shoved my sleeve in his face until he balked, “Ugh, nasty.”

He tossed my hoodie in the washing machine while I followed Daddy’s recommendation to play inside.

“How’d he end up with my temper and your OCD?  Aren’t kids supposed to take after just one of their parents???”

“He’s an only child, which means he’s a firstborn on steroids, and we’re both firstborns; ergo, he’s both of us in an Eevee-sized package.”

I HAVE THE ALPHA UMBREON NOW!!!  I bred her all by myself with Aunt Lisa’s help.  Now all I need to complete my life is a flying carpet.

I groaned at my Weavile’s performance.  To be fair, Weavile have six weaknesses—including a double weakness to Fighting type moves.  Weavile are better at attacking than defending.  You really shouldn’t have two Pokémon of the same type on the same team, but I’m an Ace Trainer, so I can handle it.

“What’s wrong, Dedushka Junior?” Aunt Lisa looked up from her textbook to ask.

I groaned as I switched in an Arcanine, “Daddy fainted again, so I have to send in Papa to save his butt.”

It’d be rude to call them by their first names like Aunt Lisachu does.  Aunt Lisachu’s a Raichu.  She knows Grass Knot, Agility, Electro Ball, and Signal Beam.  I’ve maxed out her Special Attack and Speed.  She’s got a Timid nature, Lightning Rod, and she’s “impetuous and silly”.

My Weavile has a Jolly nature, Pickpocket, maximum Speed and Attack, and he’s “proud of his power”.  He knows Beat Up, Posion Jab, X-Scissor, and Ice Punch.  My Arcanine has Intimidate, a Hardy nature, maximum Attack and Special Attack, and he “likes to fight”.  He knows Heat Wave, Morning Sun, Bulldoze, and Iron Head.

I can’t decide what my fifth and sixth battle members should be, but I bring a Shaymin around just for fun.  I can’t even decide what to call him, so Shaymin’ll have to do for now.  I keep him in Sky Forme as often as possible.  I may not be able to fly, but that’s no reason to stop him from flying.

I finished the battle and healed my team before I showed it to Aunt Lisa.  Daddy and Papa came in to check up on us after she began cackling and cackling and cackling and cackling and cackling.  They found her curling in on herself and flopping around on the floor.

“He literally named them Daddy and Papa!” I’m pretty sure she stopped breathing by this point.

Daddy and Papa inspected my 2DS, and the next thing I know, Papa ruffled my hair, slapped his knee, and joined her.  Daddy smirked his approval, “I have Pickpocket. Nice.”


	4. Lowell Tries to Eevee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here on out is when the story falls apart. If you feel brave enough to endure this discombobulated mess, fine by me; it's your life, not mine. The main problem is that I didn't put as much thought into the following chapters as I should've and turned what should've remained a one-shot or a series of domestic drabbles into a convoluted story where none of the elements were married well together.

It’s the end of the world if a single speck of dust infects anything else in Lowell’s wardrobe, yet he won’t part with his Eevee jammies.  Lisa bought them for him.

Her solution to figuring out how to wash them besides sneaking them off him while he’s asleep was to buy him shiny Eevee jammies.  He wears those as pajamas and his regular version as daywear.  I love him no matter what he wears, but how are Mick and I supposed to say no to him when he looks up at us and curls his hands in front of him like a kitten?

My son purrs now!

“Eh, so he’s gone feral,” Mick shrugged: no comfort at all, although admittedly, he brought up a good point, “at least he’s not a pyromaniac!”

I sighed behind my coffee.  Our adorable Pokémon had already waddled out the door.  He loves playing outside as much as he loves his plushies and video games, but on weekends, he’s only ever inside to go to the bathroom or for meals.  He hasn’t even been eating any snacks lately.  On weekdays, he’s out from 3:30 until dinnertime.

He took a plushie and a note with him this morning.  Granted, he took his extra Eevee—heaven knows why he needs a spare considering he already has an Eevee, a shiny Eevee, all the Eevolutions, and all of the shiny Eevolutions—but as a responsible parent, it’s my job to figure out why my kid’s acting like a weirdo.

Hence why we ventured forth on an arduous journey across the street to an unassuming bungalow with shriveled shrubs fencing the front porch.  On this porch sat a kid with a tri-colored shirt and a pathetic frown that flipped when Lowell popped up from behind these bushes.

This kid pounced into a hug, “Richievee! You’re back!” He shouted into the house, “Sharon! Scooch your booch out here!  I told you we have a real Eevee in our neighborhood!!!”

A pigtailed girl—younger than Lisa yet older than Lowell and his pal: anywhere from twelve to fourteen, no older than fifteen—poked through the door and groaned, “That’s not an Eevee, Virgil, that’s just a kid dressed up as an Eevee.  Why can’t you play normal games like a normal human?”

“Humans are dumb!” the boy pulled at his dreadlocks and produced a thick, wooden sound by stamping his feet on the porch. “They either move away like Richie did or die like Mom did!”

The girl clenched her fists at her sides, “If Pokémon can’t die, where do Ghost types come from!?”

Mick and I came this close to stepping in when the boy moved towards his sister.  Lowell stopped him, toddled up the steps, and handed her his extra Eevee.  He’d added yellow beads on its ears to match the ones in her hair.  They looked at it then him with confusion until he handed her the note.  She read it with the boy peeking over her shoulder.  She teared up and hugged Lowell when she was done.

Finally, their father—a man who stuffed his belly inside a pastel brown vest—appeared and interrogated them with as much exhaustion as you’d expect in a widower, “Virgil? Sharon? Why are you two shouting??  You’re not fighting again, are you???”

Virgil hugged Lowell and leaned on his head as if it was a pillow, “Dad, this is Richievee: the best Eevee ever!  Can we keep him? Pleeeeeease???  We don’t have any Pokéblocks or Poffins to feed him, but he’s happy enough with fried dough.”

That explains his snack fast.

Lowell was amidst munching away on a palm-sized version of said treat and barely looked up when Sharon grumbled at her brother, “I knew you were taking extras!” She folded her arms and mumbled, “But I guess that’s okay cuz Pokémon need to eat, too.”

Their father spotted us and chuckled, “I hate to break it to you, kids, but I think this Eevee already has a trainer or three.”

“Lowell, return!” Lisa popped open her replica Luxury Ball and clicked it closed when he skipped to her side.  She flashed her driver’s license and a pose worthy of a Power Ranger which Lowell joined, “Gym Leader Lisa at your service!” She flourished her hand at us, “And these dudes are Elite Four members Mick and Lenny!”

Virgil looked up at us like we’re gods.  Sharon rolled her eyes at him yet smirked welcomingly.  Their father smiled with more bags under his eyes than Lisa nabs on a spending spree, “You must be the new kids on the block.  I apologize for not offering to help you move in....  I guess I haven’t been on my best behavior lately either.”

“Don’t sweat it, Mister…?” Mick searched for a name as they shook hands.  Mick grunted approvingly at the man’s strong grip.

“Robert Hawkins.”

I took my turn shaking his hand, “It’s hard to be on your best behavior when you’re grieving.” I pulled Lowell close, “Mick and I only have one—ten if you include my sister—”

She shouldered my arm, “Hey!”

“But if you ever need any help at all—babysitting, meals, whatever—we’re literally right across the street.”

Mick looked down at Sharon and warned her, “You and me, kid, we’re having ourselves a dough off.  Nobody outfries a Rory!”

“Your name’s Lowell?” Virgil piped up. “Why didn’t you tell me!?”

“....I didn’t wanna disrupt your emotional recovery by doing something incongruous to my character.”

“And at home?” I asked for the hell of it.

Lowell looked up at me and shrugged, “It’s difficult for me to break character once I don it due to its consuming nature.”


	5. Lowell Tries to Patient

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My original note for this chapter was "ooh look! a wild plot appears!"
> 
> ...."Wild" is definitely one word for it....

“MISTER RORY! SAVE ME FROM SALMONELLA!!!”

“Wipe your feet first,” Len glared our second son into submission without missing a beat.  Virgil hurriedly obeyed him before resuming his flight into our house.

“VIRGIL OVID HAWKINS! I WORKED HARD ON THOSE EGGS!!  SCOOCH YOUR BOOCH BACK HOME AND TRY THEM RIGHT NOW!!!”

Sharon never needs a reminder to wipe her feet despite spending less time over here than Virgil.  The girls migrate to the Hawkins’ while the boys flock here.  I usually give her cooking lessons at their house since stovetops are as finicky as cats.

Don’t get me wrong—I love ‘em both—but mornings like these make me happy Lisa only brought one kid home.  Speaking of Cub, “Try to keep it down, our friendly neighborhood Eevee’s trying to sleep.”

“It’s almost eleven! What the heck is he doing???” Virgil tapped his foot like Thumper.

Lisa came in and sighed, “He’ll live but I dunno; if his fever gets any worse, we’ll need to take ‘im to a hospital.”

Even I know that was the worst way to say it around Virgil.  The poor little guy thinks his buddy’s on the threshold of death’s door.  It’s been too soon since a bullet killed their mama.

“Virgil, he’s gonna be fine,” Sharon groaned at her brother dashing into Lowell’s room, nearly running over Lisa in the process.  She looked up at me and frowned, “Right, Mister Rory?”

I ruffled her hair.  Lisa hates it when I do it to her, yet Sharon doesn’t mind.  Her hair’s usually pulled back too far to mess up anyway.  I washed my hands, grabbed a carton and a couple of pans, and learned her how to egg on breakfast.

* * *

“Richievee, you’re not allowed to die!!!”

“Morning, Virg....”

Ugh, he doesn’t just FEEL sick, he LOOKS sick, he SOUNDS sick, he SMELLS sick, and if I was a cannibal, he’d probably TASTE sick too.  Just wriggling out from under the covers makes him all groan-y and moan-y.  His coughs are super squeaky—as if coughing in and of itself tortures him.

THIS IS THE WORST SICKNESS EVER!  I know I say that every time, BUT THIS TIME IT’S TRUE!

* * *

Aunt Lisa and Virgil are overreacting, I’m fine.  So what if I can’t uncurl without contracting hypothermia?  I just gotta stay under the covers, and I’ll be fine.

....I’m bored.

I can barely see ten feet in front of me, so that tosses out Pokémon… unless Virgil plays and I just listen.  He’s more of a coordinator than a battler; he never stops making Poffins and Pokéblocks.  Virgil’s working on making Static—his Shinx—a Contest Star.

I’m not entirely sure if he can do it.  If anybody can, he can; but it takes blood, sweat, and tears to raise a Pokémon to perform at Master Rank in one category, never mind all five!

Plus, Virgil insists on keeping Static a Shinx.  He rarely evolves any of his Pokémon, especially his Shinxes.  I like Shinxes, too, but they already have an underwhelming moveset as is it; evolving Static into a Luxray would help assuage that.

He’s the soon-to-be Top Coordinator, though, so he must know what he’s doing.

“Tell me about Richie.”

Virgil quirked his head up from his 2DS.  He bit his lip before smiling fondly, “Richie was never the smartest kid in class, and he prefers Digimon, but he always tries his best and loves fillin’ up the Pokédex.”

Youkomon's cool.  Renamon and Kyubimon make me feel weird cuz they're yellow.  Yellow's supposed to be the color of fear, not the color to fear.

The problem with Digimon is that you need an FAQ and seven guides per Digimon to figure out how to digivolve anything into something you want.  Pokémon are tricky, too, but for the most part, they stick to an X, Y, or Z method—and no, I’m not just sayin’ that cuz I’m a Kalos kid.

“His parents couldn’t stand Richie hanging out with me,” Virgil grumbled.  His button pressing became tenser and his jaw tightened. “Mr. Foley never let me sleep over their house, and Mrs. Foley only ever offered me cookies if Richie asked for ‘em first....  I wish your fathers were Richie’s parents instead.”

“What about your parents?” I’m not interested in a sibling, thank you please.

“Well, if he’s my brother, we can’t get married.”

“Virgil, you’re not even eleven; how can you possibly know you wanna marry Richie???”

“My parents knew they wanted to get married when they were ten.”

Wow. Dad and Papa didn’t even know each other when they were ten.

Maybe Mr. and Mrs. Hawkins stuck to each other so soon cuz somehow they knew they didn’t have a lotta time together....

Sorta like how I know stuff before I learn ‘em.  Dad and Papa look up academic knowledge and pretest me first, and I usually get between 80-90% of the answers right.  I only ever study for lockpicking, pickpocketing, escaping handcuffs, etc: aka, the stuff I don’t let anybody outside our family figure out I know.

It’s kinda bizarre knowing things before learning them.  I guess it’s like déjà vu… but disturbingly intimate on the first date.

Don’t even get me started on my dreams.  Those are freaky as hell.

Like this latest one: I’m a teenager, and Dad helped me escape my owner's house.  My owner basically pulled a Tangled because reasons???  Except he let me play outside for a grand total of thirty minutes per day under his supervision.  He watched me like a hawk.  The only shoes I owned were my snow boots, and even then, my owner locked those away so I wouldn’t get any ideas.

I was a chew toy in a train wreck though, so I didn’t… until Dad showed up.

He broke into our house and I tried to warn him away before my owner got home cuz he would die if he found an intruder.  Whatever I said—or however I said it—reminded him too much of Lewis, so he ended up stealing me.

I’m supposed to say that I won’t ever take drugs or drink cuz thieving under the influence is detrimental to your heist, but honestly, what motivates me to stay clean and sober is maintaining what apparently paltry sanity I have.

Because an adopted homeschooled apprentice thief who has as many friends as eyeballs isn’t weird enough for the multiverse; I have to be cockamamie cuckoo on top of all that!

Thanks!


	6. Lowell Tries to Stranger

“Run, Virgil, run!”

A couple of thirteen-year-olds—a runt in an Eevee hoodie and a slinky in a Shinx hoodie—scampered through an asphalt jungle to escape more than just a sudden downpour.  The runt slipped on a puddle and twisted his ankle.  He held up his hand to stop his friend.  Steadfast, Virgil huddled over Lowell.  Rain needled their bones in that alleyway.  Furious clouds drenched them in an artificial twilight.

A balding, smirking man darkened them further, “Whatcha runnin’ from, grandson?  I ain’t gonna hurtcha.”

“You got your hand over your pistol right now,” Lowell spotted his concealed hand.

Laughter snorted through Lewis’s nostrils, “That’s ‘You got your hand over your pistol right now, sir’… or ‘grandfather’; I ain’t picky.”

“You lost your right to call Mr. Snart and Lisa your kids when you started hurting ‘em!” Virgil snarled with his hands coiled into fists.

Lewis flashed his pistol at last, “I don’t remember speakin’ to you, kid, but since we’re talking, why aren’t you scared of this alleged big bad wolf?”

Virgil’s jaw clicked shut and his brown-black eyes bulged on sight of the gun.  Lewis chuckled, having beaten them without laying a hand on them.  He looked down on Lowell, “How ‘bout I borrow you and your buddy here for a job?  You be our lookout, Virgil helps me with some lifting, and I’ll fork over half our loot.”

“....Lowell, what’s he talking about?”

“Oh?” Lewis snickered. “You don’t know your best friend’s a thief like his fathers, aunt, and me???”

“We’re nothing like you,” Lowell hissed. “Dad and Papa plan their heists so nobody dies; you can’t even steal an emerald without killing half your crew, never mind innocents!”

Virgil tore his gaze between Lewis and Lowell.  He’d always known Lowell’s family was better off than his, but the source of that income being....  Virgil shakily stepped away from them.  Lewis yanked Lowell onto his feet and tightened his trigger finger, “Looks like your pal’s out, grandson… and if he’s out, he’s out.”

Lowell punched Lewis’s beer-bloated belly with all his might.

Lewis watched Virgil flee before sheathing his gun and fisting Lowell’s hoodie, “Awww, you scared off your friend.  Let me give you a tip on making new ones: don’t attack them out of the blue.”

Lewis’s fist missed by mere centimeters.  Red lightning whisked the boys to the Hawkins’ home.  Virgil lost everything he’d eaten today; Lowell could barely stand both from his injury and this trip’s disorientation.

“Who…” Lowell leaned against a post on the porch’s entryway, “the heck are you???”

Virgil’s dreadlocks flopped in front of him when he weakly looked up from practically hanging over the barrier.  As dangerous as what Virgil learned today about the Snart-Rorys was, this dubious hero quintupled that value.

The man’s eyes glowed red.  His yellow leather-lookalike displayed thunderous motifs on his chest, belt buckle, and ears.  He smirked as he ruffled Lowell’s hair.  Flinching from the man’s touch knocked Lowell on his butt due to his disorientation.  The man mostly ignored Virgil except for a perfunctory glance or two.

“ **If you had my abilities, what would you do with them?** ”

Both boys winced at his warbling voice.  The duo coldly and fearfully shivered in sync.  The man gently reset Lowell onto his feet and awaited an answer.

“....I’d go find Richie,” Lowell eventually gulped. “He’s Virgil’s best friend.  His dumbass father moved them all away cuz he’s a racist bitch, and then his folks disowned him after he came out as gay.  Dad and Papa have their network on the lookout for ‘im, but no one’s turned up anything yet.  His last known location was 40 Fore Avenue, apartment #16—but that’s his parents’ place.”

“ **You’re not afraid Hawkins will abandon you for Foley???** ”

“I won’t abandon him!” Virgil vowed. “Anymore....  True, his family’s income isn’t entirely legal, but like he said, they never hurt anybody to get it.  And honestly, this explains why there haven’t been any robberies in years; everybody’s too scared of his fathers to invade our neighborhood.  Richie would like them, too.”

“My fathers will foster ‘im.  Mr. Hawkins barely has enough time to fill out paperwork for his actual job, never mind obtain guardianship....  And if social workers reject ‘em, my fathers’ll take ‘im anyway.  Technically speaking, my adoption paperwork ain’t exactly legit either.”

The man smirked before darting off.  Sharon opened the door moments later, “Why are you idiots standing around out here!?  I love you both, but some days, neither of you have any sense at all!”

The buddies shuffled inside and shucked on dry clothes before settling onto the couch with blankets.  They tag-teamed a few missions of Sonic Heroes—alternating at every checkpoint—and wondered if their savior would oblige them.

* * *

Central City was awash in an ever worse barrage of rain, thunder, and lightning.  The man consulted the supercomputer in his watch and calibrated its compass to use Richard Foley’s DNA as north.  It directed him to an alley flooded halfway up his knees.  He followed clacking teeth until he found a blond shivering against a brick wall.  The boy had to pick between keeping rain from pounding his head by standing under an overhand or taking refuge on top of a dumpster to keep rain out of his porous sweats and sneakers, so he’d chosen the latter due to thunder creeping closer every minute.  Richie flinched and curled in on himself when the man reached out for him.

“ **Hawkins sent me,** ” vibrant red eyes met pastel green ones.  Richie neither moved away nor towards him when the man reached out this time. “ **Let’s go.** ”

The man didn’t bother waiting for Richie to become comfortable enough to permit the man to pick him up and carry him back to North Dakota.  He rang the doorbell on the Hawkins’ house before departing.  Virgil opened it and grinned with shock, “Richie!!!”

The blond teared up and hugged Virgil, who returned the gesture and pulled him inside.  Sharon looked up from cooking dinner to see what all the fuss was about, then dashed to grab him some fits-enough-for-now clothes.

“Richiemon, meet Richieon!”

“Aka Lowell McLeo,” Lowell tipped a hat he didn’t have before pulling a pen and a pack of sticky notes out of his pocket for Richie. “My nickname used to be Richievee, but we’re teenagers, so we’ve evolved now.”

_ You mean Digivolved _ Richie wrote on a sticky note.

“You’ll convert to the Light Side one of these days!” Virgil groaned playfully before pulling his buddies in. “Either way, we’re glad you’re back.”

Richie’s gaze latched onto the screen.  He stuck a note onto Virgil’s forehead.  Lowell chuckled at it before Virgil got a chance to read it _Team Rose? Really, Virg???_

“Amy kicks ass, you heathens!” Virgil hmphed as he did so to a bunch of Eggman’s robots.

“Everybody knows Team Chaotix has the best Team Blast,” Lowell resettled with his hands sheathed inside his pockets. “Proper timing and execution can nab you an extra life with how many rings you earn.”

_ Team Dark pauses time _

“Fine! We’ll compromise by playing as Team Sonic,” Virgil started up a time trial while his friends booed this popularity bait, not-their-favorite trio.

* * *

_ Raij _ _ ū _ _ watched Len pull out iron twigs to unlock a door before chirping, “Why doncha just phase through???” _

_ Len looked up at him with a quirked eyebrow before rolling a golden bronze doorknob. _

“Oh no, not one of these dreams again!” Lowell groaned detachedly in his sleep. “This is the ‘arrived safely at safehouse #8’ episode, isn’t it?  Why’d my dream self pick the name Raij ū ? ”

_ Raij _ _ ū _ _ scanned the kitchen/dining area _ _ — _ _ which led into a living room, a hallway to the bedrooms, sliding glass doors to a backyard beach, and stairs to the basement behind a door. _ __ _ A lavender carpet tickled his arches. _

_ “You hungry, kid?” _

_ “Yes, sir!” Raij _ _ ū _ _ hopped in place fast enough for a blur to shadow his movements. _ __ _ Len blinked his shock away before asking if Raij _ _ ū _ _ had any allergies.  _ _ “ _ _ Nope! Foxes are omnivores; we eat everything! _ __ _ I _ _ ’ _ _ m not really a normal fox anymore anyway, so I can eat human food just fine.  Would you prefer if I sat at the table or on the floor?” _

_ Len barely refrained from wincing at that as he handed his guest-for-the-foreseeable-future a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios and a spoon, “Table. Just assume I want you to behave like a human for now.” _

_ “Okay, sir!” _

_ “Call me Lenny, kid.” _

_ “Okay, Mr. Lenny!” _

_ Moonlight slunk in through the windows and the glass doors, the ocean settled for the night, and Len switched off the light in the bathroom after showering.  He froze when he saw Raij _ _ ū _ _ nestled on his bed. _

_ “But I love you!” Raij _ _ ū _ _ sat up and looked at him with puppy dog eyes. “I sleep with my owner all the time.” _

“You can’t sleep with me cuz Mick’ll get jealous.”

_ Len bit his lip.  They would be having so many conversations Len never wanted to have tomorrow morning, “Listen, Raij _ _ ū _ _ , you can _ _ ’ _ _ t sleep with me cuz—” _

_ “Because I’ve displeased you?” Raij _ _ ū _ _ deflated and whimpered. _

_ “No! No, not at all,” Len assured him.  Raij _ _ ū _ _ looked up at him with puppy dog eyes until Len elaborated.  _ _ “ _ _ You can _ _ ’ _ _ t sleep with me cuz Mick _ _ ’ _ _ ll get jealous. _ _ ” _

_ “Oh, okay!” Raij _ _ ū _ _ scrambled off the bed and then hugged Len. “Good night Mr. Lenny!” _

_ “....Good night, kid,” Len sighed as he watched Raij _ _ ū _ _ dart into the room down the hall. _ __ _ He sent Mick a pic of Raij _ _ ū _ _ so the former would know the latter wasn _ _ ’ _ _ t intruding. _ __ _ Len woke up when the sun slammed against his face and peeked into Raij _ _ ū _ _ ’ _ _ s room. No _ _Raij_ _ ū _ _.  _ _ “ _ _ Raij _ _ ū _ _??? _ _ ” _

_ He assumed the worst when he should’ve assumed the weirdest.  Lisa was playing fetch with a dark fox wreathed in white-blue lightning. _

_ “Gimme the stick, _ _Raij_ _ ū _ _ , gimme the stick! _ _ ” _ _ Lisa clapped before holding out one of her smooth hands towards the fox whose tail was flickering at a million miles per hour.  The fox ducked low and shook its butt in the air before forking over the stick.  Lisa stroked its ears fast, “Good boy, Raij _ _ ū _ _!  _ __ _ Oh, you’re such a good boy!” Lisa tossed it and sent Raij _ _ ū _ _ racing across the beach. _ __ _ Lisa chuckled at her older brother,  _ _ “ _ _ Is this one of those  _ _ ‘ _ _ no heisting under any influences _ _ ’ _ _ lectures, Lenny? Cuz I gotta say, you were definitely under a strong influence if you seriously thought Raij _ _ ū _ _ ’ _ _ s human. _ _ ” _

_ Raij _ _ ū _ _ brought back the stick. _ __ _ His gaze flittered between Len and Lisa, wondering who _ _ ’ _ _ d want it. _ __ _ Len opened his mouth to say something, closed it, and flopped his hands. _ __ _ Len ran his head through his Caesar cut and looked down on Raij _ _ ū _ _ ,  _ _ “ _ _ You were human last night. _ _ ” _

_ Raij _ _ ū _ _ nodded before digging  _ _ “ _ _ pic _ _ ” _ _ in the sand. _ __ _ Len and Lisa rotated their heads before Len pulled out a photo. _

_ Raij _ _ ū _ _ became human once more and hugged Len,  _ _ “ _ _ I love you, Mr. Lenny! _ _ ” _ _ He then zipped to hug Lisa, “I haven’t known you for super long yet, but I love you too, Lisa-senpai!” _

_ “Aw, I love you too, Raij _ _ ū _ _ , _ _ ” _ _ Lisa ruffled his fluffy hair. _

_ Len stared at them for a minute before weakly turning towards safehouse #8, “....I’m going back to bed.” _

_ “I’ll make breakfast!” Lisa chimed before suggesting that Raij _ _ ū _ _ nap as well since he didn _ _ ’ _ _ t know how to make a lot of food.  _ _ “ _ _ Go be Lenny _ _ ’ _ _ s second blanket. _ _ ” _

_ “But Mr. Mick’ll get jealous if I sleep with Mr. Lenny!” _

_ “Only if you sleep as a human,” Lisa waved him off. “Mick won’t care if you sleep as a fox.” _

_ “Yay!” Raij _ _ ū _ _ transformed into a fox and then toddled alongside Len, who exhaled befuddlement and exhaustion while Lisa distantly cackled and texted Mick about his and Len’s new fur baby. _

* * *

Lowell peered down on the bottom bunk.  Richie’s breath hitched.  Lowell rolled his eyes, “Got anything weirder than a shape-shifting fox???”

Richie shrugged before switching on a lamp.  Lowell blocked some of the light with his pillow while Richie scribbled a note.  They stretched so it’d reach Lowell.

_ I dream about Digimon in Sonic Heroes. _

“Okay, tell me ‘bout ‘em.”

_ Let’s wait until tomorrow; Virgil’s in it, too. _


	7. Lowell Tries to Genius

“If we leave to pick up Sharon and Lisa, will you two at least pretend to learn something until Virgil invades?” Len asked as he threw on his coat while Mick slipped into his boots.  Richie nodded eagerly. “Great. See you in… four hours and thirty-seven minutes.  ....We need a closer train station, dammit.”

“Bye, Dad; bye, Papa,” Lowell saluted him as the door closed behind Len.  He read Richie’s newest note.

_ Okay, so this is the dumbest question in the multiverse, but when you say ‘dad’ how does anybody know who you’re talking about??? _

“When I say ‘dad’ I mean Dad; when I say ‘papa’, I mean Papa,” Lowell flapped one hand, and then the other. “It’s just like when Virgil says ‘dad’ for Mr. Hawkins and ‘mom’ for Mrs. Hawkins.”

Richie thumped his head against the table _I’m so stupid_

“No, you’re not,” Lowell patted Richie’s shoulder. “All kinds of intelligence are valid; your problem is you haven’t figured out what kind of intelligent you are.”

_ Easy for YOU to say.  You and Virgil barely study for anything, meanwhile, I’m lucky I can read. _

Lowell stifled his chuckles, “I can assure you, Virgil and I are not the best and brightest in any universe.  Virgil wouldn’t even talk to me when we first met cuz he believed all humans ever do is leave and die.  The sole reason why my Emerald Version team got to level 100 is cuz I couldn’t solve that damn boulder puzzle; I couldn’t earn my 8th gym badge before that, so I ended up mopping the floor with the Elite Four.”

Richie blinked in disbelief.  Lowell nodded with embarrassment tightening his jaw.  Richie squinted at his textbook, quirked his head off to the side, then started clacking away at the free-for-all computer on a desk by the living room window.  He popped it out a computer before clicking it into the Xbox.  The Snart-Rorys were one console away from converting their house into an arcade.

Lowell looked up as soon as he heard the Sonic Heroes’ theme song.  His eyes widened and mischief stretched his grin.  Virgil burst in on them at three o’clock, plunked his backpack down beside his sneakers, grabbed a disc of fried dough and mumbled with his mouth full, “What is heck is this???”

“Sonic Heroes: Enriched Edition,” Lowell shoved a controller into Virgil’s sugar-powdered hands.

Virgil blinked his befuddlement and sat down on the couch as if a Jack-in-the-box would spring his cushion through the room.

Virgil selected Amy.  A white-blue aura glowed underneath her red-and-white boots.  A white-red aura glowed underneath Omega, and a white-yellow aura glowed underneath Charmy, chosen by Richie and Lowell, respectively.  Virgil’s fried dough fell to the floor when these misfits set out on an epic quest to foil Eggman’s newest scheme.  Richie only had up through Egg Hawk all set to go, but that much was all it took to floor his friends.

Whoever pressed the Team Blast button activated their team’s signature finisher; meaning they could gain a hodgepodge of power-ups from Team Rose, fifteen seconds to put the clock in a corner from Team Dark, or a ton of rings from Team Chaotix.  Rose didn’t call a time-out to stop and swing her hammer anymore.  Both of the vanilla levels featured paths they’d need to return as a specific character to follow.

The Chaos Emerald challenge split the screen two ways: the non-Speed characters on the bottom and the Speed character on top.  The Speed character chased after the lustrous green gem while the Power and Fly characters collected orbs to fuel the Speed character.  And in other news, all Speed characters were equally suitable to catch Chaos Emeralds now since difficulty was no longer tied to specific trios.

Lisa rolled in one of their suitcases while Sharon rolled in another, and the men rolled in the last two.  Lisa abandoned hers by the shoes and blinked at the screen.  Richie had remodeled up to Bingo Highway by then, “....Why’s it called Enriched Edition?”

“Cuz Richie programmed it!” Virgil flapped his arms like a lunatic. “He’s a legit genius!!!”

_ I couldn’t have done it without my beta-testers :) _

“Controller,” Lisa commanded.  Lowell surrendered so she could play as Rouge.  Sharon preferred Cream, but she was never gonna boot Lisa out of the Fly position, so Sharon kicked her own flesh and blood out of the game and went with Espio instead.  Virgil pouted until Richie gave him an excuse to bounce around as Big.  Richie continued pounding new code into submission while Lowell stared at Richie’s work with no spark of comprehension anywhere within him.  Lowell knew objectively that subjects he knew nothing about existed, yet it remained disconcerting to encounter one at last.

Len checked off _demonstrates technological literacy_ on Richie’s homeschooling forms for the entire year.  Mick just stood there and said, “Wow....  Our kids are nerds.”

“Yes… yes, they are,” Len agreed.


	8. Lowell Tries to Carrot

I opened the drawers on the bottom of the fridge, closed ‘em, then yelled back, “Lenny, why do we have a crap ton of carrots???”

“Blame the Three Stooges.” Couldn’t tell what was fumin’ more: Lenny or his coffee. “Sparky, we have failed as parents!”

Lisa slapped a newspaper onto the table discussin’ thieves folks are callin’ the Rabbits Gallery.  She and Sharon spiraled out of their seats from cackling so much.

* * *

Aw, the boys waited up for me.

I pop open the case to show off my wares and receive sarcastic applause.

“Diamonds, diamonds, diamonds, sapphires, diamonds, diamonds—and ooh! More diamonds,” Lowell resumes their time trial without so much as flicking his head in my direction. “We’ll make you a blue ribbon tomorrow, I swear.”

I singlehandedly stole eighteen 2-carat diamonds and fourteen 2-carat sapphires, and they’re acting like I went grocery-shopping.

Scratch that, they at least help Mick and I put the groceries away.

Teenagers!  I will preface my complaints by thanking them for skipping the rebellious brat phase, though.

“Well, it’s like when I get an A on another test, Mr. S,” Virgil shrugs. “Nobody cares cuz that’s how I usually do.”

I care! Especially considering Robert died three months back.  Nobody would blame him or Sharon if their grades slipped.  Lisa abducted Sharon for a week-long pampering cruise while Richie and Lowell played as Team Rose and a hockey league’s worth of Pokémon Contests without so much as rolling their eyes.

So don’t you dare tell me an A or diamonds are worthless.  An A and diamonds require herculean effort to acquire.

“Or you could just steal carrots,” Lowell suggests. “It’s what we do in Fable.”

I will not be known as a carrot thief!

_ You already are, Dad, you just stole 64 tonight _

The boys fist-bump Richie.  They may have won a few battles, but they haven’t won the war.  Lowell continues fire-dunking baby jets, “You sell 300 carrots for even just $2.45 dollars a pop, that’s $735 for no effort.”

No effort!? My god, what have Mick and I ever done to indicate that no effort is something to be proud of!?!  Heisting isn’t about profit, it’s about the adrenaline of evading badges, the grandeur of plans going according to plan.... “Minus crew and transportation expenses.”

“5.6 miles to the nearest grocery store, the nearest gas station—which is on the way there—costs $2.04 per gallon; so we’re subtracting a prohibitively expensive $11.43,” I can hear Virgil’s eyes rolling from here. “Oh, no, we’re only making $723.57!”

“Crew,” I remind them.

“Aunt Lisa will do it for free if you play your ‘I’m your older brother, do what I say dammit’ card, and Papa’ll will give you a night of whatever you want for a night of whatever he wants,” Lowell gags while Virgil and Richie snicker.

I lean against the couch, glance over them all, and announce, “I’m your parental unit, do what I say dammit.”


	9. Lowell Tries to Meta

“Sharon’s right,” Lisa rolled her eyes as she breezed into the dining room one March afternoon. “Static’s Virgil, Gear’s Richie, and Jolteon is somehow Dedushka Junior.”

“Hold up,” Mick held up a time out as he sat up in his armchair. “How did Sharon find out before we did???”

Curiosity raised one of Len’s eyebrows, so Lisa showed them footage on her phone.  Sharon may have been in Central for college, yet she kept up with her hometown via her favorite news site.

_ Three months after what locals called the Big Bang, folks debated where to draw the line between ordinary talent pushed to an extraordinary level such as Gear’s tech know-how and fantastic abilities such as Static’s electrokinesis and Jolteon's supervulpine speed.  However, this trio of heroes found a much more important subject to discuss amidst fighting Hotstreak: a pyrokinetic bully-turned-thug. _

_ “ _ **_ Combusken relies on its feet, and its arms are twigs; Hotstreak prefers his fists, _ ** _ ” Gear stated in broad daylight. “ _ **_ Incineroar fits his build better; plus, its signature Z-move is inspired by wrestling.  And who used to be captain of the wrestling team??? _ ** _ ” _

_ “Yo, Pokénerds!” Hotstreak’s fists and red hair burst into flames as he pointed to himself. “Legit threat over here!!!” _

_ “ _ **_ Technically, I’m a Digimon Tamer! _ ** _ ” Gear said with his hands cupped over where his mouth would be if an emerald visor didn’t block his face.  Unbeknownst to outsiders, this visor was a voice synthesizer rather than a voice modulater. _

_ “ _ **_ And I’m a Top Coordinator! _ ** _ ” Lightning sparked within Static’s outraged eyes.  His voice modulator added extra punch to his fury.  He counted off each category, “ _ **_ My Shinxes are Contest Stars in Cool, Cute, Tough, Smart, and Beauty; I will be addressed with the respect I deserve!  Jolteon, Double Kick his ass!!! _ ** _ ” _

_ “Finally, some ac” a dark fox wreathed in blueish-white lightning sped in outta nowhere to supersonic pounce Hotstreak, “tion.” _

_ The trio took incoming police sirens as their cue to leave.  Hotstreak was too winded to stand, never mind flee or resist arrest.  Jolteon toddled beside rocket-skating Gear and disc-flying Static into the sunset. _

Len pinched the bridge of his nose, sensing an oncoming headache, “This footage is from over a month ago.  Why did she wait this long to tell us?”

“Sous chef, you have failed me!” Mick shook his fist playfully even though Sharon wasn’t there to hear it.

“Apparently, Sharon gave them a month to tell us themselves,” Lisa informed them.

“No!” Len grabbed some meds and his parka. “We are talking about Virgil Ovid Hawkins, Richard Foley, and Lowell McLeo.  Virgil waited until the night before to study for last semester’s finals AND STILL GOT AN A ON ALL OF THEM, Richie avoids confrontation at all costs, and Lowell... is probably laughing his ass off that we didn’t even begin suspecting them until last week.  In no universe would they have ever told us anything!”

Meanwhile, at an abandoned gas station, Virgil and Lowell were configuring some box towers for flying practice while Richie was tinkering with his helmet.  So far, Richie had an Iron Man-style HUD that tracked heat sources and electrical currents, yet Richie pushed for more out of his tech.  He got an extra five miles per hour out of his rocket skates last week.  Success drove him to greater aspirations.

It wasn’t all smooth sailing though.  The first time Virgil used electromagnetism to float around on a trashcan lid, Richie and Lowell climbed on as well.  Their combined weight careened them into a hill of garbage.

To say nothing of the Big Bang itself.  They were just trying to pick up some power converters at Tosche Station, dammit!  Or ya know, cannolis from Deli Devil. Same difference.

Naturally, gangsters picked today to flip each other off.  The trio hit concrete as soon as they heard gunshots.

Gas exploded.

Richie woke up first and dragged them into what became their secret base.  Virgil held up his hands and behold! Electrical tapeworms arced between his fingers.

The duo silently scrambled for a delicate way to tell Lowell that the Big Bang had changed him into a fox until Lowell crashed onto the floor because he assumed he was still his normal height.  Lowell spent the next five minutes freaking out rats and spiders by running around at fifty miles per hour with lightning trailing behind him.  Lowell eventually calmed down and shape-shifted back into a human by focusing on a photo from Virgil’s phone.  Virgil and Richie guarded their eyes in case Lowell transformed naked.  They all sighed relief when Lowell emerged wearing the same outfit he did in the photo.  As long as he had his Eevee hoodie, he was all set.

Virgil flicked his wrists and would’ve began gliding if Richie hadn’t gotten a ping on his metahuman alert app.  Richie’s eyes darkened over the reports and scowled, “ **Ebon....** ”

Lowell shook off his dizziness and became a fox again.  This time, he rode Virgil’s disc instead of running alongside his friends.  There were too many parents out there who hated their children; Ebon didn’t need to go and kill the good ones.

“Mick!” Lisa barked from the backseat when she read Sharon’s latest text. “You need to U-turn yesterday!”

“What the hell, Lisa!?” Len howled when complying with her orders smooshed him into his husband.

Lisa plunked two titanium cases between them: one labeled with a snowflake and one labeled with a flame.  Len’s slate eyes widened while Lisa strapped on the contents of a case labeled with an ingot.  Blueprints invaded Len and Mick’s heads one morning after they’d warned the boys to remain alert for metahuman troublemakers—they REALLY should’ve put two and two together faster; the most the trio ever did pre Big Bang was loiter at a nerd store they made the older trio swear to never rob so it wouldn’t go out of business.  Now, they gallivanted across the city like sociable folks.

The cold gun, heat gun, and gold gun were designed to corral Ebon, alias of Ivan Evans: better known as the bastard who shot Robert Hawkins.  He’d spent his time since the Big Bang recruiting metas and terrorizing any part of North Dakota his gang could reach.  He declared war on Static, Gear, and Raij ū when they refused his offer.

No wonder those crazy kids accepted his challenge!  They were their crazy kids!!!

Rod-shaped lights flickered overhead.  Poor ventilation, leaking pipes, and mold stifled the air.  Lowell stumbled into Richie’s ankle.  Virgil whirled around—his coat flowing behind him—and Richie crouched at once to check on him.

“ **Raij** ** ū ** ** rai, ** ” Lowell coughed.  They still hadn’t figured out a proper method for him to communicate in fox mode.  Blueprints for Static and Gear’s tech invaded Richie’s mind all the time, his hands and tools moved like he’d built them before, yet original ideas eluded him.  Virgil and Lowell understood this feeling because their powers came to them as naturally as if they’d possessed them for much longer.

Tentatively assured Lowell was fine, the trio continued padding along this umbral subway.  Crumpled paper served as tumbleweeds for this high noon showdown.

Tumbleweeds??? But that meant—!

Feathery daggers and energetic shards zipped through Backpack when Lowell didn’t push Richie out of the way in time.  Virgil tossed some thunderbolts out towards their direction only for a blizzard to bash them from behind.

“Hello, grandsons!” Lewis’s eyes glowed white as he snatched up Lowell by the scruff.  Frost spread across Lowell’s fur every second Lewis trapped him in his grasp. “No wonder you’re so cozy dressing up as an animal; you are one!”

Talon and Shiv, an avian meta and a purple-haired meta respectively, tackled Richie.  Ebon spirited Virgil into the depths, taunting the remaining two with a phantasmal chuckle.

The lights flickered more violently than ever.  Lewis dropped Lowell when a vibrating hand stabbed his heart.  Talon and Shiv fled after this yellow-suited nightmare scowled at them.  Lowell crawled a grand total of two feet away from the man, pointing his nose towards the wall Ebon teleported through.

Red lightning dazzled darkness-accustomed eyes as the man phased through brick.  Len, Mick, and Lisa stormed in just when the stranger dropped Virgil next to Richie.  The stranger scoffed at their guns, “ **This timeline has dulled you if you’re only discovering your charges’ antics now.** ”

Confusion and protectiveness tightened their grips.  This lunatic found Richie last year???

The man hauled Lowell over his shoulders like an errant sheep.  Len, Mick, and Lisa feared they’d hit Lowell instead of their true target.  The man used their hesitation against them and vanished.  Mick roared and futilely chased after him for a few steps until Richie tried and failed to stand on shaky skates.  Len swooped in to catch him while Lisa widened her eyes at nonresponsive Virgil.

Ebon stepped out of the shadows to meet whoever stole his prisoner: the last mistake he ever made before the heat gun incinerated him.


	10. Lowell Tries to Student

** Your world is dark and cold with only a candle to light and warm it.  The devil you created favors glacial nights.  Flames die before your eyes over and over and over again until finally, you hide your candle inside a castle in the mountains.  You light your candle anew once again.  It remembers nothing of its previous flames, yet it is safe. **

** Years pass.  You become comfortable.  The devil can’t find you, so you fall under the impression that nothing short of a demon can invade your castle only for a Eurasian wolf to snatch your candle away.  You build another castle because if you reclaim your candle right away, this wolf will steal it back and know you have a method of divining your candle’s location.  This wolf is cunning, loyal once inspired to be, and admittedly… perhaps you coddled your candle.  You haven’t so much as sighted the devil since you lit this flame. **

** Legends arise about beasts no hunter can trap for long.  Even the smallest flames burn when fools touch it. **

** You furnish your new castle like a wolf den so your candle thinks nothing of waking in a strange place.  If all goes as planned, it will not consider your castle a strange place at all; it will assume its pack has gone hunting without it. **

** To no one’s surprise but yours, your candle notices incongruities: a cabinet inches too wide, a table inches too high… devilish details.  Your candle burns its way out only to encounter the devil beyond the door.  The devil steals its flame once more. **

** You don’t relight your candle immediately this time.  You don’t even hide it at your side; you giftwrap it for the wolves.  You assume the wolves teach it the basics of survival, yet fate demolishes your faith again.  Your candle dives into darkness too dim to fight it.  You reclaim your candle. **

** He wakes to blue darkness.  He sees my shadow lurking along the far wall and jolts up. **

** He blinks and squirms his head away from bars of light on him from blinds I half open.  I prowl over and scan him.  This ethereal creature doesn’t eat nearly enough to fuel his abilities.  Oh sure, he can live on a 2,000 calorie diet, but anything extra requires extra. **

** Organisms prioritize survival over all other goals.  They develop traits and behaviors to further their survival and legacy; if their traits and behaviors cannot be sustained, organisms die or adapt. **

** I engineered him to adapt.  A human diet yields a human.  A speedster diet yields a speedster.  If he hasn’t figured that out by now, he’s not nearly as intelligent as his caretakers give him credit for. **

** He seems to learn quickly because he has already learned most topics in at least one previous timeline.  Drips harden over a candle, after all.  What he has failed to do is access knowledge of the Speed Force. **

** The first human blessed by the Speed Force was Savitar.  The first beast blessed by the Speed Force now calls himself Jolteon....... **

** “ ** Let me guess, **” he peeks out from his coil to sneer, “** you’re Savitar. **”**

** He hasn’t accessed knowledge of his hunter because memories are locked away if they’re too traumatic to live with. **

** “Not at all,” I smirk as he tries to wriggle away from my touch: stroking his unkempt hair.  His stomach isn’t the only part of his body he’s neglected.  I suppose that’s to be expected since one of his caretakers only pays perfunctory attention to grooming. **

** “ ** What do I call you then? **” he resorts to snapping.  He never reaches flesh.**

** “Adorable, but if I was concerned with your speed alone, I would simply lock you onto a treadmill.  Think, is running all you can do with your gift?” **

** He looks at me like I’m insane.  The definition of insanity is expecting different results from repeated actions.  By neglecting to develop his repertoire, he better fits this definition than I do.  I expect him to vary his actions. **

** “ ** Let me go! **”**

** “You may leave whenever you wish.  The question is: can you?” He searches every crevice his ensemble has.  I hold up iron twigs, “Looking for these?” I dodge him by centimeters because near victories insult and infuriate more than overwhelming losses. “You don’t need them.  You’re not human; stop thinking like one.” **

** “ ** Of course I’m human!!!  Bang baby, metahuman, Savitar, Lowell McLeo—I don’t care what you call me; we’re on the same page as everybody else! **”**

** This idiocy has gone on long enough.  I roll my eyes, push him down with one hand—he’d be able to put up a fight if he ever ate anything—and straddle him. **

** “ ** G-get off! **”**

** My gaze loafs over to a corner before I wrench his to meet mine, “Escape your binds and I will.” **

** I can hear fear igniting his brain to figure out how to please me.  He stalls for time I never said he didn’t have, “ ** And if I can’t??? **”**

** I swoop in close enough for our breath to mingle, “As long as you can move, you can.” **

** I sit up and await success. **

** He thumps one leg at a time.  He’s not giving himself enough time to build up speed, nor is he focusing his speed into a small enough area.  His breath hastens. **

** I am above base pastimes, and even if they held sway over me, I most certainly wouldn’t choose a puerile partner for entertainment, never mind an animal.  Still, terror seems to be the best way to motivate him, so I trail my fingers along his neck. **

** His breath races his heartbeat.  His eyes become even blacker than this non-lighting already makes them.  I keep my gaze upon him as I pin his knees behind me to give him his last hint.  He finally demonstrates intelligence by only wiggling his feet. **

** I can taste his relief when I keep my promise.  I never said I wouldn’t.  Empty threats hold no meaning.  Nothing I’ve done warrants his distrust.  I gave him Foley and rescued Foley and Hawkins.  I’ve done him enough favors; the least he can do to repay me is accept my instruction. **

** I don’t bother praising him.  Low expectations breed low performance.  Before I depart, I challenge him, “Now phase through this.” **

** He gasps as I make an unmarked wall my door.  I hear him scrabble along this wall, seeking tricks and weaknesses.  The only weak thing in there is him.  Hunger and thirst gnaw him.  He struggles to stay standing.  He leans against the wall before slumping onto his knees. **

** Dinner shall be ready in ten minutes. **

** I set a tray on a desk after fifteen minutes have passed.  His breath crackles through his mouth.  He rattles against the wall in a pathetic attempt to warm himself.  Moans rumble from deep inside his soul.  He fails to notice me latch a collar around his neck.  His vision can’t even fully focus on me when he does, so I cut that off as well.  He still hasn’t noticed my collar.  It locks his current form and allows me to forcibly shape-shift him if he had any energy with which to do so.  As it happens, he can barely crawl over to me, which is why I didn’t waste time making that demand and dragged him by the scruff instead.  His human form will be best to reteach him this next lesson anyway: submission. **

** He depletes the last of his strength ducking away from a strip of salmon. Good boy. ** **If he accepted food from my hand during our first session, I’d disown him.  He may no longer remember his first life, but I do, and that incarnation of him would smile upon this one.**

** That incarnation ripped the ears off my hunting dog when it sniffed out his den while his mother was gone.  A platoon’s worth of mercenaries, hirelings, and soldiers lost eyes, limbs and lives after I posted a bounty for him.  This episode taught me that if I couldn’t beat an enemy, make him join me.  He defied me even on his deathbed… or death cage, I suppose.  I wasn’t about to let death free him, so I trapped him inside immortality. **

** It took three more (fox) lifetimes for him to not attack me on sight, scent, sound—whichever sense perceived me first.  It was like breeding a domestic species—which is why Shiba Inu and Egyptian Mau exist; you’re welcome—except satisfying and challenging because descendants forget why ancestors fought if captivity is comfortable to them.  I cut off his access to his kind because never mind how the lightning in his veins would affect offspring or mates, I wanted him to remain unique… and mine. **

** My wrath and jealousy inspired legends. **

** Youth.... **

** The more he eats, the more he tires until a sip is all he needs to slip onto the nearest pillow: my thigh.  He may not have direct access to his previous knowledge, yet somewhere deep inside him, he knows his master won’t harm him.  I tuck him into bed and cuff his wrists this time.  Practice makes perfect.  I shall return him to his caretakers eventually, but until he learns all he needs to know, he’s mine once more. **


	11. TESS Flash Tries to Lowell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of this chapter contains the original version of Time and Time Again chapter 6.

Iris tugged a spectacled man cosplaying Rapunzel and Maleficent—horns, cloak, pink dress, frying pan earrings—over to Zoom, who was manning the gift shop cash register.  She introduced these doppelgängers to each other.  Apparently, civilian Hunter Zolomon had just gotten back from his own trip to Disneyworld.  The cosplayer presented Zoom a white frosting cake with cyan icing letters _Sorry I stole your pseud_.

“....” Zoom twitched and broke. “ **You’re the infidel!?!** ”

Theoneandonlyzoom made guns out of his hands, winked, and grinned without an ounce of fear.  Between the cake and his doppelgänger’s sexy black leather, the latter would taste better to his tongue.  It definitely tasted better to his eyes. Yummy!

Zoom would’ve speedster-stabbed Hunter in a blind rage if Reverse hadn’t stopped shelving trinkets to give Zoom _a look_.  Zoom looked down at the cake, up at his doppelgänger, and stubbornly pouted in awe of Hunter’s theatricality, “Fine, you are worthy.”

A throng of schoolchildren arrived an hour later to enjoy the Multiverse Museum.  HR enamored everyone with tales of action, intrigue, suspense, knitting, and plushies!  The tour ended in the Speedster Wing.  Statues of both Quicks, all three Impulses, all four Flashes, der Mann in Lila, Blitz, Reverse, and Zoom stood like knights along the wall.

The Ciscogram was a hit with teachers and students alike with a flawless delivery of its “yay, science!” speech.  Hot chocolate was devoured faster than Caitlin and Julian could pour it.  The gift shop sold out of Beast Boy green stuffed animals.  Other purchases included kiddie-sized Cold parkas, bauble beanies and matching glittens courtesy of Yarn Earth Barry, and Miss Kitka keychains.

Zoom scrutinized theoneandonlyzoom when the latter’s acquisitions included a Zoom Funko Pop.  Theoneandonlyzoom waggled his eyebrows, “I’d rather bring you home, but sadly, handsome, you’re not for sale.” Theoneandonlyzoom’s cloak flourished behind him at his departure after a bow. “Perhaps next time.”

Zoom twitched and broke again.  Reverse and Barry guided him onto a cot in the medical wing so his brain could reboot in peace.

Once the last of the crowd filed out, the VIP guests ambled in: visitors from STAR Earth, TESS Earth,  [ Yarn Earth ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8272387/chapters/18951427) , and recently renamed Jay Earth and Joseph Earth.  They got together over multiversal Skype and brainstormed legit names because this whole name-by-numbers business would become vague and confusing speedster quick due to shenanigans.  Plus, from everyone’s perspective, _their_ Earth was Earth 1 while all subsequent Earths were 2, 3, 4, etc.  This one became AO3 Earth—much to Barry’s chagrin—in honor of everyone’s fanfiction addiction.

The Lens were complaining about their Lisas dating the Ramons when one of the Ciscos paused passing them to call out, “Yo, other mes, I’m like majorly vibing over here!”

The other two Ciscos dropped their Icees after getting slammed with Len pouring over rumors and research with a dark fox plushie slumping nearby on his desk.  Mick slogged over to him, who looked up at Mick and shook his head with tears blinding his eyes.  These haunted husbands hugged the plushie and each other.

“I think Mark or Clyde are missing,” STAR Cisco guessed after he and his counterparts described their vision to the gang.

Clyde scoffed while holding out his plushie for emphasis, “Marco and Claudio are red foxes; a dark fox means it’s a different kid.”

“Maybe we’re triplets?” Yarn Mark shrugged.  STAR Mark and Clyde raised a disbelieving eyebrow at that.

“Plus, wouldn’t at least one of you be vibing by now if the Mardons were danger?  They’re all right here,” Yarn Joe pointed out to the Ciscos, who accepted that rebuttal.

AO3 Iris checked a doc on Google Drive and swallowed her horror down like vomit, “....Is there any chance vibe Len and Mick said ‘Lowell’???”

The Lens and the Lisas perked up upon mention of their grandfather’s name.  Iris reluctantly showed the Lens, the Micks, and the Lisas her  WIP .  The Lens were disgusted at their counterpart in chapter one, but he redeemed himself in chapter two.  The Lisas warned all of the Doctor Wellses to be on guard for a flying carpet enthusiast.  Tensions rose when Lewis invaded and a speed demon spirited Lowell away like a trophy.  There was one more chapter, but Iris wouldn’t budge on letting anybody read it until a copious amount of convincing.  Embers glowed within STAR Mick’s fists after he, his counterparts, and the rest survived it.

The Ciscos inputted new coordinates into the portal generator while the Lens organized a team consisting of themselves, the Ciscos, the Micks, the Lisas, Yarn Flash, Blitz, and Hail Mary.  The Lens dissuaded additional volunteers since it’d be difficult enough to endear their counterparts to trust them already.

AO3 Iris told them all tearfully, “Finish this fic for me.”

The away team nodded and stepped through a writhing miasma.  With six universes’ worth of heroes on call, there was no need for anyone to search for their child alone.

* * *

More caffeine flowed in Len’s veins than blood.  His eyes felt like they were bleeding from how long he’d spent sorting through rumors and reports of the Man in Yellow, the Man in the Lightning, the bastard who spirited Lowell away like a trophy.

March

April

May

June

July

August

September

October

November

December

January

316 days and change without so much as a hint that Lowell was even alive.  Richie’s hacktivist friends and Len and Mick and Lisa’s contacts produced nothing.  Reporters assumed Static, Gear, and Jolteon died in an epic showdown while more pessimistic folks believed the trio had abandoned their neighborhood.  Naturally, Mick and Len were furious that the boys had engaged in this foolhardy crusade to begin with, but they poured that fury into finding Lowell, as futile as that task seemed at this point.

Len couldn’t remember the last time Mick spoke instead of communicating via grunts and murmurs, the last time Lisa went shopping for the hell of it, or the last time Sharon, Virgil, and Richie gallivanted off to Deli Devil for cannolis.

But worst of all, Len couldn’t remember the last time he told Lowell he loved him.  Len cursed himself for it later, yet on a night more depressed than others, he wished Lowell was with Lewis instead because at least Lewis wouldn’t be this damn difficult to find.  Len also knew how Lewis would treat him and how to heal him afterwards.

316 days and change yet not a soul knew anything!

* * *

Virgil dropped his fried dough when he peered through the fish-eye hole on the white, quartered front door.  He double-taked at Len and Mick and Lisa until Sharon tromped over, “Open it already, sheesh!”

Sharon’s eyelid twitched when she threw it open and saw who it was: three Lens clad in parkas, three Micks clad firefighter jackets, three Lisas clad in biker jackets, two brothers clad in leather lookalikes (the older in scarlet, the younger in teal), twins clad in legit leather, triplets clad in goggles, and a five-year-old clad in Teddiursa jammies.

....The Hawkins siblings needed to sit down.

“Servus! Vie geht’s?” greeted Blitz and TESS Flash.

Once they got introductions and intentions out of the way, Len eyed the five-year-old, “You brought a kid to rescue our kid?”

“We didn’t bring him,” STAR Cisco scoffed. “You know how kids are.  Take your eyes off ‘em for two seconds—and bam!—they’re following you across the multiverse!” The natives were unamused.  STAR Cisco bit his lip, “Right… that’s not funny cuz Lowell is yeah........”

AO3 Cisco sort of saved the day by steering the conversation in a more productive direction, “Got something of Lowell’s we can vibe off of???” Mick tightened his grip on Zvezdochko and tensed in his armchair.

“Vibing won’t bust it,” Yarn Cisco rushed to explain. “If Lowell’s alive—which he is!—it’ll give us a vision!”

Len and Mick stared an entire conversation at each other after scrutinizing the Ciscos.  Finally, Mick slogged up and gingerly handed them Zvezdochko.  The Ciscos became hazy and seemingly high for a good long minute.  They removed their goggles and blinked, “Whoa.............”

“Where is he???” Lisa voiced what everyone wondered.

“Hell no,” Yarn Mick banned them from tagging along.

Mick puffed up his chest and would’ve dueled to the death for this right until AO3 Lisa said, “We all know what you all look like exhausted, and you definitely look like that right now.  Leave this us; we’ve got years’ worth of teamwork and psycho-control under our belts.”

“Besides,” Caitlin added as she set her baby cousin in the middle of the natives, “you’re gonna need this many of you to keep an eye on Nathan.”

“Ich heiße nicht Nathan, ich heiße Flash!” the boy glared his protest up at her.

“Flash can tell you all about the Multiverse!” Yarn Flash offered this consolation prize.

The Ciscos handed Richie a multiversal phone with schematics for a portal generator on it.  One of them explained, “If a jerk shows up, press this” a thunderbolt app “and five universes’ worth of heroes will rip open a can of kickass!”

“You said a bad word!” TESS Flash snickered and pointed.

“Oh shut up,” this Cisco teasingly blew a raspberry at him.

“You said another bad word!”

“‘Shut up’ isn’t a bad word.”

“Vati says it is, and Vati’s the goshdang Batman—the real one, not Batmanchen—” TESS Flash explained for the natives’ benefit before crossing his arms proudly at the linguistic outlaw, “so he’s right.”

“Hold up, Batman’s real???” Virgil’s eyes widened with awe.

“Yep!” TESS Flash nodded while the other outsiders stole away.  One of the Lens tipped a hat he didn’t have and signed _We’ll find him_ while the boy obliviously chattered away. “There’s two of ‘em: the real one who’s my Vati and the fake one who lives on STAR Earth.  STAR Earth also has a fake Catwoman.  Obviously, my Mutti’s the real Catwoman, aber if Selina was dead and Mutti was alive, Selina wouldn’t mind if Mutti became Catwoman.  Vati doesn’t mind the fake Batman being Batman either cuz Vati retired.”

* * *

My god, this kid never stops talking!  Is oxygen reaching his brain anymore?

Lisa wondered out loud, “So what’s the difference between your Vati not minding there being other Batmen and you minding if there are other Flashes???”

“I WAS FLASH FIRST!” he stomped his sneakers against the carpet. “THEN THOSE STUPIDHEADS STOLE MY NAME!!!”

_ He _ knows what he’s talking about, but we don’t.

“STAR Earth has the best Mick and Lenny cuz STAR Mick and Lenny have superpowers!” he flourishes some jazz hands. “STAR Mick has Zuko powers like Ronnie und Opa, und STAR Lenny has Elsa powers like Charlie und the Caits!  AO3 Earth Mick und Lenny und Yarn Earth Mick und Lenny just have guns.  TESS Earth Lenny und Mick, Joseph Earth Lenny und Mick, und Jay Earth Lenny and Mick are losers.  All of those Micks are bodyguards.  Joseph Lenny’s the mayor of Central City, Jay Lenny’s the American ambassador to Russia, und TESS Lenny’s the Prime Minister of Eurussindia.  Politics are a waste of their potential!”

How does anyone—never mind a goddamn five-year-old—keep all of this straight???  The biggest thing Lowell worried about at his age was where the hell he left Zvezdochko last.

The next question came from Sharon, “What’s your favorite Pokémon—”

“ **Or Digimon!** ” Richie interjected.

“Teddiursa und Bearmon!” Flash vibrated with glee. Literally.  Red Lightning—and no, that’s not a euphemism—struck him as soon as he followed the rest of the away team into the portal.  Apparently, Lightning with a capital L gives TESS and STAR Earth people Lowell-like powers, except none of them can shape-shift. “Ich don’t have Bärchen mit me cuz Vati wanted me to pay attention to the Multiverse Museum.  It has all of the fake Flashes and all of the other speedsters except Lowell, so when awesome Lenny and awesome Mick and the rest rescue him, he can have a statue, too!  Static and Gear aren’t speedsters, aber they’re still heroes, so their statues can be in the Shock Earth wing.”

“Shock Earth?” questioned Lisa.

“Your Earth!” Flash decided as if that the end of the discussion.

Virgil lowered his head and sighed, “....I dunno if Static and Gear are heroes exactly.”

“ **We’re definitely not super,** ” added Richie.

“Yes, you are, silly geese,” Flash rolled his eyes. “You’re just new heroes mit not a lotta training.  The STAR Blazers have been heroes forever; they’ll train all of you if you ask nicely.  We also accept payment in cannolis, fried dough, und hugs!”

Skepticism got the better of me, “....You really think they’ll find Lowell when we haven’t seen a trace of him in almost a year???”

“Yep!” Flash nodded. “Solnishko was missing since before the dawn of time, und STAR Mick found ‘im all by himself without even trying; so they’ll definitely find Lowell.”


	12. Lowell Tries to Human

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt bad about Time Value/Timeless Barry because STAR Blazers were throwing parties left and right while he most certainly wasn't, so it is my honor to introduce yet another interdimensional immigrant: Bartholomew Henry Allen, aka Snowflash!

Snow pulsed within Hail Mary and STAR Cold’s hands.  AO3 and Yarn Colds’ cold guns and all three Heatwaves’ heat guns buzzed with fury.  All three Vibes wove a web of vibrating aura like a dragon float in a New Year’s parade.  Yarn Flash and Blitz stood tensely, ready to dash at a moment’s notice.  White lightning leashed Lowell—trapped in fox form—to a phantasmal semblance of a certain blond speedster who’d murdered Yarn and AO3 Nora Allen and kidnapped Blitz.  He didn’t call himself Thawne, though.  He didn’t need a human name because he wasn’t human.  According to himself, he was the Speed Force incarnate: Raijin, thunder god.

Blue Lightning spoke through Blitz, “ **Speed Force incarnate? Perhaps.  But you’re not the only Speed Force in the multiverse.** ”

“ **....Someone changed your charge as well,** ” Raijin said after scrutinizing Blitz.  Blue nodded.  It hated recalling those memories as much as Red and his fellow captives did, but this might be the only way to get through to Raijin. “ **Why didn’t you restore him???** ”

“ **Because he doesn’t need to be.  Solnishko Rory Morgan-Wells is just as valid as Bartholomew Henry Allen.  We love him for who he is, not for who doesn’t remember being.** ” Tension mounted when Raijin stubbornly scoffed at Blue’s words, yet Blue stood firm. “ **Raij** ** ū ** ** was raised as Lowell McLeo in this timeline; that is who he is. ** **** ** As much as you would like him to be Raij ** ** ū ** ** , he can ** ** ’ ** ** t because Raij ** ** ū ** ** is dead. ** ”

“You could’ve asked the entire multiverse for help—and we would’ve helped—so why didn’t you???” asked Hail Mary.

“ **I did!** ” Raijin roared.  He looked like a giant with the high ground beneath him.  Grips tightened and eyebrows quirked up, compelling him to continue.  He paced like a lion in a small cage. “ **I did....  His name is Hunter Zolomon.  He conquered his universe, so I endowed a champion to fight him.** ” Raijin gulped. “ **Zolomon conquered him instead.** ”

The group pivoted when a vorpal miasma howled.  Hail Mary, Flash, Raijin, Blitz, and the Vibes faced it fearlessly.  Raijin’s white lightning blazed brighter.  His leash on Lowell dissipated.  He slunk over with his head low and his tail tucked close to his body.  Yarn Heatwave clicked the collar off.  Lowell shape-shifted back into a human for the first time in months.  He gazed upon his fathers’ doppelgängers with soulless, broken eyes.   Yarn Heatwave offered him a hug, yet Lowell shook his head and turned away in time for a black-suited speedster to hop through the portal with a desperate version of the cold gun.

Zolomon scrunched his eyebrows in confusion at the group before smirking and aiming his stolen weapon at Raijin.  Zolomon found himself shoved against the nearest tree and shackled by white lightning.  Raijin growled, “ **I may not be able to take away your gift, but I can take away your life.** ”

Thus, the multiverse was down one plague.  Raijin phased Zolomon’s blood off his hand.  Gasps erupted, eyes widened, and Blitz clung to his brother.  Raijin looked longingly at the portal.  He couldn’t leave this universe unless he allowed Savitar access to interdimensional travel as well.  Besides, he figured, all he’d be rescuing is a corpse.

Lowell quirked his ear towards the portal and sidled through it after eying Raijin for a wary minute.  He’d take any chance to defy him at this point.

Lowell discovered the champion entombed inside an iceberg.  The Vibes entered soon after him, followed by Hail Mary and Flash.  Gasps escaped and eyes widened once more when these heroes discovered that the champion was another version of Flash.

“Raijin was right....” said one of the Vibes.

“No, he’s not; I can hear his heartbeat,” reminding himself that he was a beast tortured him, yet Lowell became a fox once again and vibrated his paw against the frozen coffin.  AO3 Heatwave and Yarn Heatwave came to check up on everybody.  They inhaled sharply, then set out to help Lowell defrost Zolomon’s captive.

Hail Mary caught him.  His hair was wintery gray-brown and his skin was paler than ice.  He awakened at last.  Snowflakes glimmered in his eyes instead of lightning.  It initially seemed like he was looking at the world through a foggy windshield, yet he recognized Lowell once his vision cleared up, “ **Raij** ** ū ** **??? ** ”

“ **....I don’t remember you, I’m sorry.** ”

“ **There’s nothing to remember; I’ve only heard about you through Raijin,** ” Snowflash explained.  He left Hail Mary’s grasp and pre-panicked, “ **Where’s Zoom!?** ”

“ **Dead. Raijin should’ve never asked you to fight him alone.  He’s irresponsible, arrogant, selfish, and impulsive.** ” Lowell rumbled before flicking his head toward the Vibes. “ **They can help you find your way back home.** ”

Snowflash shifted his weight and bit his lip, “ **Zoom killed everyone I know....  I don’t have a home to find anymore.** ”

“You can come home with us,” Flash, Hail Mary, and the Vibes offered.  Snowflash shrugged.  It wouldn’t be the same.  Lowell transformed back into a human and held out his hand.  Snowflash accepted it.

Raijin’s jaw dropped when Snowflash appeared through the portal, “ **Barry!** ”

Snowflash gave him a cursory glance then brushed him off, “ **You abandoned me, and it looks like you abandoned Lowell, too.  Go defeat Savitar and leave us alone.** ”

“ **Actually, you don’t even need to do that first task,** ” Blue informed them. “ **Short story even shorter, Richie redesigned the portal generator so that it’s a cPhone app just in time to bring the rest of the STAR Blazers here....** ” It grimaced at Lowell sympathetically. “ **You’re probably gonna be living in the Hawkins’ home for a while, but everyone’s safe—including Nathan, who’s finally back with Bruce.** ”

“Savitar went after Nathan???” STAR Len correctly guessed.

“ **Savitar’s lust for speed caused him to land in a Venus fly trap.** ”

Raijin gazed upon his champion and his pet before reluctantly biding them farewell.  His form faded into sparks.

The group shuffled into an unmarked van.  Hail Mary separated into STAR Caitlin and Charlie.  Snowflash didn’t speak a word the whole way, but from some longing looks at Caitlin and the Ciscos, the others could tell he missed them.  Maybe it was better that he chose to stay here; there were less folks he’d recognize on Shock Earth.

Lowell twitched at the ashes of his home.  Savitar had torn it apart from the inside out.  It looked like a meteor had smashed into it!

“Cub???” Mick’s voice ached from disuse.  Lowell whipped around and teared up upon sight of him.  Mick was scruffier than he remembered.  Lowell darted into his embrace at once.  He didn’t want to cry in front of near-strangers, yet he couldn’t help himself when Mick began wailing as well.  The rest of the clan came out to investigate the commotion before creating some themselves.

“I’m so sorry, Lowell,” Virgil whimpered. “It’s my fault!  I was supposed to be our leader, yet I led you and Richie into danger instead—all for a stupid revenge scheme!”

“No, it’s not, Virg,” Lowell shook his head and glanced at Snowflash. “None of us were ready to be heroes.”

The STAR Blazers left for home after inviting them to the Multiverse Museum, training, etc.  They understandably declined for the moment.

Mick and Len welcomed Snowflash into their menagerie of metas and muggles and brewed hot chocolate for everyone.  Snowflash tapped his mug before sipping from it to ensure his modified powers wouldn’t shatter it.  Lowell was simply cupping his mug.  Len eyed him especially worriedly.

Lowell abandoned his seat at the table to retreat into Virgil’s-old-room-but-has-been-since-converted-into-Lisa’s-territory.  Len and Mick found him shivering in her organized chaos closet.

“One of the yous offered me a hug,” he told Mick with watery eyes. “I knew he wasn’t you cuz he smelled too much like yarn!  I spent my birthday with that bastard!  He had me eating out of his hand and thanking him for ruining your lives to save my life.  Lowell McLeo is a lie!!!”

“Aaaand just when we thought you and the rest of the boys would skip the dramatic stage of teenhood,” Len hid away his fury at his son’s captive.  Len and Mick gathered him into a hug. “You didn’t ruin our lives; you made them better.  And you are definitely not a lie; you’re our son.”

“Our flying carpet-obsessed, Eevee-breeding, cannoli-scarfing son,” Mick chuckled.

Static, Gear, Snowflash, and Jolteon eventually enrolled in Vigilantism 101 (taught by Arrow), Len discovered how lucky he was that his Lisa wasn’t dating anybody named Ramon, Lisa discovered how unlucky she was that she wasn’t dating anybody named Ramon, Sharon learned some magic tricks from Raven and Arella, and Mick joined his counterparts in burning lots of crap, and Raijin never blessed another mortal ever again.

The End!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, the best part about a piece of literature is when it's finally over. In retrospect, this should've ended at chapter one (chapter two at best), but if you feel differently, let me know. The logic (such as it is) behind continuing this was I wanted Static & Gear in STAR Blazers yet realized STAR Blazers has an army's worth of characters in it already and feared that they weren't unique enough to stand out amongst the rest of the troops, so I cobbled up a plot based around that and canon Jay Garrick's mysteriously specific wording, "The first human blessed with speed was Savitar."
> 
> My reaction upon hearing that was, "Oh, so does that mean there are speedster animals running around???"
> 
> Thus, this fic became me answering my own question. If anybody else wants to write "an animal becomes a speedster", by all means, go for it :3 I doubt I'm the first or the best to utilize it, so I claim no ownership over the idea.
> 
> Seriously, let me know your thoughts about this fic. I can't write better if nobody complains, so please rant as much as you want. Trust me, I have complaints about this fic too. Not that I 100% or even 50% hate it; I just sense that not a lot of y'all liked it, so I'd love to know why so I don't commit those sins in the future.
> 
> As one of my gym teachers used to say, "Stay safe, stay healthy, and stay happy!"

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for taking time to read this (even though it became an unabashed train wreck by the end) enjoy what you do here and everywhere!


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